


Faithful

by jericho



Category: NSYNC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jericho/pseuds/jericho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin cheats on JC and pays for his sins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Callboy

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 1999/2000. Probably pretty ridiculous now.

Justin laid on his back on the bed, hands locked behind his head, watching the callboy dance with a foot on either side of him. Occasionally the boy would lose his balance a little, making the bed rock, until he caught the beat again. The song was ambient and nameless. Justin found it on a CD a fan had burned and sent to him. There were no song titles, but they weren't really needed. 

The callboy had a body like a ballerina - thin limbs and narrow wrists, more slender than Justin could ever hope to be. Justin estimated him to be 18 or 19. He had brilliant blue eyes and black hair. That agency always did him well. 

Justin had asked for a guy with black hair and bright eyes. He wanted someone who looked like JC. What he got was someone a lot more effeminate, without JC's strong limbs or masculine scent. When Justin answered the door and first saw the callboy, he wanted to shut the door in his face, call the agency and bitch. But the callboy was in his hallway, waiting, and Justin was so horny his body felt like it was on fire. 

JC. Those two letters made tears come to his eyes and his heart ache violently. Two weeks ago it would have been JC in here, running his hands across Justin's body, rubbing in the right places, licking in the wrong ones. JC would have fucked him to any music, to any mood, used his fingers to make Justin come so hard half the hotel would hear it. But JC wouldn't have anything to do with him. Not anymore. 

Justin hadn't meant to piss him off so much. They were apart for three days. Three days without JC's body pressed against him when he fell asleep. Three days without an orgasm. Justin couldn't help it. He hated to sleep alone. So he'd borrowed someone. It was just a fuck, and not even a good one. He'd been JC's for six months. He was JC's no matter who he fucked. He didn't think an hour of sex with someone he barely knew could erase six months of falling asleep together, showering together, doing everything together. But to JC it did. He'd barely spoken to Justin since, and when he did, his tone was thick was loathing. 

The callboy seemed to sense that Justin wasn't paying attention. "Do you want me to keep doing this?" 

"No," Justin said. "Take your clothes off." 

The callboy slid out of his shirt, dropping it on the floor next to the bed. Justin watched him. "There's an extra $100 in it if you let me fuck you with inanimate objects," he said, just to see what the boy would say. 

He looked up from undoing his pants. "Like what?" 

Justin rolled his eyes. "Jesus. Just get undressed." 

The callboy stepped out of his pants, kicking them on the floor, and waited. He was still standing on the bed above Justin. Justin was fully clothed. He reached over and switched off the radio. 

"Lay down." The boy laid down next to Justin, let Justin roll him over on his stomach, waited silently as Justin grabbed the lube off the nightstand and put some on his fingertips. 

"What's your name?" Justin asked. 

"Jason," he mumbled into the pillow. 

"Is that your real name?" 

"Yes." 

Justin reached down to the boy's ass and he spread his legs automatically. Justin's finger slid easily inside him. 

Justin leaned in so his lips were almost touching the boy's ear. "Do you like this, Jason?" 

The boy nodded. His eyes were closed. 

"Do you _really_ like this, or are you just telling me what I want to hear?" 

The boy nodded again, his face calm. "I like it." 

Justin slid a second finger in easily. "I can tell. You're so loose. How many times have you been fucked?" 

"A lot." 

Justin moved his fingers around inside him, feeling for his prostate. He knew when he hit it because the boy inhaled deeper and his body trembled a little. Otherwise, he was silent. Justin burned with jealousy for him. It had been two weeks since anyone had fucked him. He wouldn't let anyone fuck him except JC. 

"Can you come just from being fucked?" Justin asked. 

"Sometimes." 

"I can," Justin said. "I can come so hard I almost go blind." He smiled a little from the nostalgia. 

The boy was quiet. 

"But only with JC." Saying the name out loud caused another stab of pain. Justin rested his forehead on the boy's pale, smooth back. "I miss him so fucking much. I can hardly stand it. I don't know what to do...I just...he'll barely talk to me." 

Still no response. Justin realized his fingers were still sliding in and out of the boy's ass. The boy had started moving his hips, following the rhythm. 

Justin drew back and put his hand on the boy's shoulder, turning him a little on his side. The boy's cock was hard and swollen, and there was a little wet spot on the comforter where it had leaked. He did like this. 

Wait, Justin realized. This was supposed to be about him. He slid out of his shirt, moving on to unbutton his pants. He looked over and saw the boy watching him patiently, except now there was an expression in his eyes. Lust. Anticipation. Justin hated him. 

When Justin was naked he laid back on the bed, his head on the pillow. "Suck me." 

The boy obeyed, laying at sideways angle and taking Justin's cock in his mouth. Justin closed his eyes, resting his hand on the boy's head. He was faster, less personal than JC. JC knew exactly how to lick him, how to touch him. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on holding back the tears. "I miss him so much," Justin moaned. "I miss him so..." Another wave of pleasure ripped through him and he pressed his head back into the pillow. 

JC. JC. The name had a rhythm of its own that rolled through Justin's head. He could easily have laid there until he came, reciting it mentally. But he grabbed the boy's hair gently. "Stop." 

The boy stopped immediately, waiting obediently to be put into the next position. Justin rolled on his side and patted the bed next to him. The boy squirmed up and laid down so Justin was spooned against him. He laid there motionless, his cock still leaking, as Justin put a condom on himself. 

Justin lifted the boy's leg and slid easily into him. Then he locked his arm around him and started a determined rhythm, paced from the start for him to come. The boy's body melted around his cock, took whatever he could give it. 

Justin leaned in and whispered in his ear. "You can touch yourself if you want." 

"Okay," the boy breathed. Justin watched him put his hand around his cock, his thumb moving in slow circles around the head. Justin knew exactly how he felt, exactly the feelings that would produce, exactly why that would bring him off. He gripped the boy's hips and pulled him back, pounding into him as hard as he could. He could only do that for so long until he felt orgasm close in. He opened his eyes and noticed that the boy had come, ribbons of semen across his chest. Justin dug his fingers into his hips, buried his face in the boy's back, his forehead resting against his spine. He kept thrusting until he came, his body shaking, pain ripping through his chest. JC. 

Justin collapsed on the bed and wiped the tears away with the back of his hand. "How much for you to stay the night?" 

The boy was already sitting up, wiping himself off with a towel Justin put by the bed earlier. "Doesn't matter." 

"Doesn't matter? That's the first time I've hear that." 

The boy shrugged. "I like your band." 

Justin got up and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He squinted when he flicked on the light, deliberately not looking in the mirror. He dropped the condom in the toilet and flushed, sighing deeply. He didn't really want the boy to stay. He didn't want anyone to stay. But falling asleep by himself, the room big and dark and empty, was unbearable. He hadn't fallen asleep by himself for six months. Well, until two weeks ago. He had always had a problem with being alone, probably one of the reasons he wanted to be a performer. Not even a musician, really. A performer. 

He grabbed his toothbrush and squirted toothpaste on it, finally looking in the mirror. He watched himself brush his teeth, his chest bare and smooth, his cock hanging limply in the mass of brown pubic hair. He had a good body. He knew it. Why didn't JC want it? 

He remembered doing this exact thing five months ago, standing naked in front of the mirror brushing his teeth. Remnants of JC were spread across the counter - his shaving kit, a bottle of aftershave Justin refused to give back when they broke up, a blue toothbrush with white spots on it from old toothpaste. JC walked in and put his arms around Justin from behind, resting his chin on Justin's shoulder. They just stood quietly, looking at their reflections in the mirror, until JC grinned and said "We make a cute couple." 

How could JC's attitude change so quickly? It was as if he'd never loved him at all. 

When Justin went back into the room, the boy was curled up under the blankets, his eyes already half closed. "Do you want to fuck again?" the boy asked. 

"No." Justin grabbed a pair of boxer shorts from his suitcase and slid into them, turning off the light and climbing under the sheets. He rolled onto his side so his back was to him. He heard steady breathing behind him. 

"Put your arms around me," Justin said. 

The boy obeyed, moving so his chest was against Justin's back and his arm was slung around his waist. 

Justin felt a tear slide across his skin and drip off his nose. "I miss him so much." 

"I know," the boy said quietly. 

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you," Justin said. 

"I know." 

More tears came. Justin thought after the first two days he had cried everything out of his body, but at least twice a day it still came back. The dull ache, the feeling of desperation and loss. He wished he could reach into his chest and yank out the hard knot of hurt. Lance had told him that time would heal it. He told him that every day on the bus when Justin laid in his bunk and cried, JC in the other room silently watching TV. "You just need to keep your dick in your pants," Joey had said at first, but he didn't say that anymore. 

Justin closed his eyes and tried to stop his mind, tried to sleep, tried to focus on the steady breathing of the callboy behind him, paid to hold him until he slept. But it was hard when he knew what his dreams would be about. 

Justin dreamed about the moment when JC broke up with him. Usually his dreams were hallucinatory, featuring people with banana-shaped heads or him being on stage naked. But this one was literal. 

It had been a fan. A girl. Justin met her at a restaurant down the street from where he was staying. She asked him right out if she could give him a blow job. So he let her. 

It shouldn't even count if it was with a girl. Justin had almost let it go with a blow job, but then felt like he should fuck her, to be fair. Before he did it he was dying to fuck someone. Dying to come. But during the actual deed it took him 25 minutes. She thought he was just a talented, go-all-night kind of guy. But the minute he had the orgasm, pressing his forehead into her shoulder, feeling her hands grip his arms, he knew he'd made a horrible mistake. 

At first, he figured he wouldn't tell JC. For an entire day, he didn't. He let JC smile at him, say he loved him, lay in bed that night and let JC's fingers lace through his. They exchanged friendly pre-sex banter, and when JC turned to him, Justin knew that they would fuck like animals. But when JC leaned in to kiss him, the secret screamed at him. He told him the whole story. 

JC snapped immediately, yanking his clothes on and storming toward the door. Justin was already crying so hard he had to hang onto the blankets to keep himself in place. "I'm so sorry," he sobbed. "I didn't think you'd care." 

"If you didn't think I'd care, why did you feel guilty about it?" JC's voice was pure acid. 

"I just thought...it was nothing. Nothing. I swear. Nothing." 

JC grabbed the doorknob but didn't turn it. "Nice to know you've thrown away half a year for nothing." 

"I don't want to throw anything away," he said. His nose was running. He had to force the words out. 

"Well, you have. I'm just kicking myself that I'm in this group with you, because I'm going to have to see your stupid fucking face every day. I told you. I _told_ you I would only be with you if you stopped this shit, and you said you could, and you can't." 

"I can!" Justin sobbed. "I can! I love you. Please. Don't leave me alone." 

JC narrowed his eyes. "You deserve to be alone. I hope you die alone, because you make me sick." The door slammed so hard behind him that Justin jumped. 

There it was. That button. The worst possible thing someone could say, the thing that you laid awake at night worrying about. It was amazing how people you loved could find that button so quickly. Strangers had no idea where it was. 


	2. Rage

Justin's eyes opened on their own and he looked at the alarm clock through bleary eyes. 7:36 a.m. 

He started to sigh and then was gripped by panic. 7:36 a.m.! He jerked up so quickly it made his head spin. The callboy lay next to him, sleeping deeply. "Get up!" Justin shook him wildly. 

The callboy opened his eyes and sat up, probably used to waking up quickly. 

"You have to get out of here!" Justin leaped out of bed and ran over to the door, pressing his ear against it. He already heard the faint mumble of Joey's voice in the hallway, strolling around looking for coffee. 

He spun around and saw the callboy slipping into his clothes. "Get out of here!" 

"I'm going, I'm going," the boy mumbled, wiping his eyes and lifting his jacket off the back of a chair. 

There was a sharp knock at the door. Justin spun around to face it again. Lance's knock. 

Justin tried to sound cheery. "Just a minute." 

"Come on, Justin, we're blowing this joint." 

"I'm coming. Just..." Justin searched around and found his pants, yanking them on so quickly he almost lost his balance. "Just give me a minute. I'll meet you in your room." 

"K." 

Justin found his shirt half crumpled under the bed and smelled it. Nope, he definitely couldn't wear that again. He threw it across the room, the shirt landing perfectly in his suitcase. He found a clean one on the chair and slipped into it. 

The boy just stood there for a minute, watching him. "What?" Justin said. 

"Just...that's it?" 

"You have the money. What else?" 

The boy shrugged. "I don't know. I could eat something." 

Justin found a fifty in the pocket of his pants and pressed it into the boy's palm. "Here. Go eat. Just get out of here." 

The boy sauntered to the door and opened it, exposing the whole 'N Sync crew lugging their suitcases down the hallway. Justin saw Lance, Joey, JC's arm, the stylist behind them. All of them stopped in unison, gawking at the boy in the doorway. The callboy kept going, unaffected, letting the door swing shut behind him. 

Justin had enough time to say "shit!" through gritted teeth before Lance caught the door and opened it. Lance's mouth was open a bit, his eyes wide. "Uh, who was that?" 

"Nothing." Justin grabbed the rest of his stuff - a Rolling Stone and a stray pair of socks - and shoved it in his suitcase. "That was nothing." 

"You mean nobody," he heard Chris say from behind Lance. 

"Yeah. Nobody. Whatever. I'm coming." 

No one moved. Justin felt their eyes on him as he zipped up his suitcase and hauled it off the chair. Lance stayed pressed against the door, his hand on the knob. Chris was behind him with a similar expression, Joey behind Chris making a noise that was a cross between laughter and the word "shit," JC behind him.... 

Justin slid into his leather jacket. "Let's go already." He knew his hair was still shooting out from his head at crazy angles, his eyes betraying exactly what had happened. 

They started moving when he reached the door, all of them except JC, who paused for a moment. Justin felt JC's eyes burning into him, judging him, accusing him. JC knew exactly what that was all about. He wanted to grab JC, shake him, tell him that it was only because he couldn't stand to be alone with nothing to think about but him. Instead he fell in line in front of JC and behind Joey, walking with his head down as he followed them to the elevator. 

On the elevator, watching the tour manager check out, walking through the lobby, there was nothing but casual banter. Justin felt the tension coming from behind him, hovering over him. He stared at the back of their stylist's head, trying to avoid JC's eyes. He still felt them, as surely as if he were being burned with two bright laser beams. 

The driver was waiting for them at the front door with the bus. Sometimes there were fans there, teenagers who had waited patiently since the break of dawn waiting for them to leave. But through some act of God, there weren't any. They strode out single file and piled on, all five of them, crossing the sidewalk like The Beatles in "A Hard Day's Night." 

Lance threw his suitcase on his bunk and still managed to hurry back in time to get the couch. "Where are we going now?" 

"Los Angeles, dolt," Chris said. 

"Well, I don't know. We go so many places it's hard to remember." 

Justin waited for the space to get back to his bunk and slid through the first chance he got. The area was dark, the floors and walls carpeted thick brown, the curtains heavy and blocking out most of the sunlight. He didn't need to be up front to know what was going to happen. The tour manager would stick his head in and say something about Justin. "Someone talk to him," he'd say. Then Lance would volunteer. 

Justin crawled up in his bunk and pulled the curtain shut, already on his back when he slid out of his jacket and threw it towards his feet. He felt the bus lurch like a sick stomach, pulling away from the curb and heading into urban sprawl. The urban sprawl would soon turn into long, anonymous roads, faceless highways leading to the next arena where they'd get out and do it all again, trying to make it special, trying to make it worth fifty bucks. 

Fifty bucks. That was how much it cost him to get the callboy something to eat. 

He needed to shower. He needed to sleep. The exhaustion never seemed to go away, to the point where it was a constant part of his life, like being thirsty or working out. It weighed down his limbs, filled his brain with static, messed with his perception. He remembered a line from Fight Club, the last movie he and JC had watched together. When you have insomnia, everything is a copy of a copy of a copy. 

He'd slept so fitfully for the last two weeks that sometimes he dreamed he couldn't get to sleep, then woke up thinking he was sleeping, never quite sure if he'd really slept or if he'd just imagined he had. Without JC there to mark each transition, wrapping around him as he fell asleep and kissing him as he awoke, it was hard to tell. 

JC. He was in the next room but it seemed so far away. He knew they were supposed to be getting along, for the sake of the band. Their duty to perform went way beyond getting on stage and singing "Bye Bye Bye" 200 times a year. But JC seemed so unforgiving. Every time Justin looked in his eyes all he saw was pain and hate and anger. He wondered if the barrier could ever be broken. 

It wasn't that he didn't try. He'd phoned JC every night for a week, after they'd all settled down in their rooms, or on the bus when he knew JC had his cell phone on and whispered into the pillow. But it just seemed to drive him farther away. 

He felt a presence on the other side of the curtain and knew it was Lance. He pulled it away and saw Lance standing there smiling. 

"Mind if I come in?" he asked. 

Justin yanked the curtain back farther and curled up his legs, giving Lance room to climb up and sit cross legged. 

"I know," Justin said. "You don't have to tell me. They're really pissed at me for getting that guy. It looks bad and people might find out and...." 

Lance uncurled himself and laid down a little, propping himself up on his elbow. "It's not that, you know." His eyes were intent. "It has nothing to do with the group or management. It has to do with us, worrying about you." 

Justin stared into the pillow. "Yeah?" 

"Yeah." Lance patted his leg. "I know why you're doing this. You don't have to explain it. It's all about JC, right?" 

Justin shrugged but felt tears behind his eyes, threatening to spill. 

"But you have to understand that this is exactly why he's so pissed at you. You're doing stuff like that to try to get over him but at the same time you're ruining it even more. You know that, right?" 

Justin shrugged again and felt tears burning his eyes. 

"The more you do stuff like that, the more you guarantee that he's never going to talk to you again. At least not more than he has to." 

"I know," Justin said quietly. 

"Really? Because it doesn't seem like you do." 

"I do." Justin traced the edge of the pillow with his finger, trying to hold it together, willing himself not to cry again. 

But Lance ruined it. "Come here," he said, sliding up and wrapping his arms awkwardly around Justin. 

"I'm such an idiot," he mumbled. 

"No you're not. You just need to learn how to face things." 

That was a deep comment, even for Lance. It was the sort of comment he'd fall asleep tonight thinking about if he fell asleep alone. He dreaded falling asleep alone, but realized that was Lance's point. 

Justin sniffled. "Maybe you should sleep with me tonight." 

Lance's face was buried in Justin's shoulder, but Justin felt him jerk a little with laughter. "That's, like, the last thing we need." 

"No kidding." 

"Boy band breaks up from lurid love triangle." 

"We should get Joey or Chris involved," Justin said. "Then we'd have a love square." 

"What shape has five sides? I don't know. Love stop sign." 

"A stop sign has eight," Justin said. 

"Well, whatever." Lance sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "You going to sleep?" 

"Yeah. Wake me up when we get there." 

"Will do." Lance swung his legs over the bunk and dropped down, drawing the curtain closed and heading back to the couch. 

Justin fell asleep to the sounds of the guys in the next room. He knew they were playing Tekken Tag Tournament. Their tour manager had managed to snag them a Playstation2 when the rest of the world was paying thousands of dollars for one on Ebay. Three days before he'd played JC, and JC had kicked his ass. Justin couldn't help but wonder if there was more meaning behind it. 

He slept until he felt the tour bus stop and woke up automatically, rolling over and peeking out the window. He saw the back of the arena - what was it called again? - slate gray and plain and anonymous. Sound check, check in, eat, come back, perform. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

He dropped out of his bunk and wandered into the main room. He still hadn't showered. He'd have to do that quickly after sound check. The other guys were already filing out of the bus, stepping into the fresh air and afternoon sun. JC led, Lance trailed behind, probably hanging back to wake up Justin if he needed to. 

Lance smiled at him a little. Justin fell in line and walked toward the main door, the sun already glaring through the windows. 

"I forgot my sunglasses," Justin said. "Hang on." He headed back to his bunk and found them quickly in his suitcase, tucked into the side pocket. He put them on and walked through the bus again, seeing the heads of everyone waiting outside. 

When he descended the steps he immediately noticed a blonde girl with a cute body a few feet away smiling like a Cheshire cat. A promoter? He watched carefully as JC smiled and strode over to her, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a deep, open mouth kiss. 

Justin felt his jaw drop. 

"I don't know," Lance said quickly. "I don't know." 

JC put his arm around the girl and steered her toward the bus. "This is Alicia," he said. "I've been writing to her for awhile." 

Everyone was quiet. "Hi," Alicia said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Justin imagined a knife suddenly appearing in his hands so he could plunge it into her chest. Or maybe a gun. A gun would be better. Cleaner. 

"Is this like a...are you...what are you...." It was hard to make Joey stammer, but he was the only one with the courage to even speak. 

"We're just going to hang out while I'm in town," JC said. "We dated in high school. We're just going to catch up a little." 

Justin wracked his brain. Alicia. Alicia. He didn't remember an Alicia. If JC dated her, he would have mentioned it. 

A girl? 

When Justin had to pin a label on himself, he figured he was probably bisexual leaning heavier toward gay. But JC? JC was gay. Gay, gay, gay. 

A girl?! 

"Let's go," Justin said sharply, taking the final step and heading across the parking lot. "We don't have all day." 

The 'N Sync entourage followed him - tour manager, tour manager's assistant, three stylists, two equipment guys (with more on the way), three security guys and four band members, three of them straight shooters and the fourth fucking with Justin's head. 

Inside Justin dropped his sunglasses on an amp and looked at Lance. "Sure you don't want to sleep with me?" 

"Yes." 

"Too bad, because I'd fuck just about anything that would stay still right now." 

"Oh, thanks," Lance replied, but Justin didn't stay to listen. He walked up on stage and scanned the empty seats. Tonight they would be filled with screaming fans, people with banners, girls who knew every single word of their songs, every public detail of their lives. Fans who loved him best and JC second. 

He had to hang onto the anger. He knew that much. When the rage subsided, it would just be a dull ache, a bone-crunching pain that made it hard to even breath. He looked down and saw JC pressed against the girl, his fingers rubbing against the back of her hand. Justin knew what this was all about. He wasn't stupid. Part of him wanted to declare war. The other part wanted to jump off the stage and run to JC, tugging at his shirt, crying and begging him to come back. But he'd already tried that. 

He noticed a microphone at the edge of the stage and walked over to it. "Is this thing on?" 

The equipment guy nodded. 

"Great." Justin unhooked it and sang into it. "I don't want to be a fool for you, just another player in your game for two. It might sound crazy but it ain't no lie...." 

He couldn't bring himself to say the rest. He heard Joey from behind the speakers, oblivious, yell out "Bye bye bye!" in his Mr. Magoo voice. 

He put the microphone back on the stand and looked over. JC's arms were still around the girl but he was watching Justin curiously. Justin stepped back and gave him the finger. 

If the girl didn't know they'd been dating, she did now, and Justin was glad.   



	3. Forgiven

Up. Down. Up. Down. 

Nose to the carpet, viewing it at arm's length. Nose to the carpet.... 

Doing push ups in his hotel room seemed like the only way Justin could get rid of the nervous energy. The post-show high. They'd hung around for awhile backstage nibbling on the catered food, signed some autographs outside. Justin was desperate to go out but no one else wanted to. He briefly put up the argument that if they left right then, they'd still have an hour and a half before last call. But he didn't want to look like the only one thirsty for it, not after the hooker incident the night before. 

Friday night in Los Angeles and he was locked in his hotel room like a caged dog, his body still humming from the cheers and the screams. It didn't seem fair to have that intensity for two hours and then have to shut it off five minutes afterward. Some girl in the crowd had a huge banner with "I heart you, Justin" written in neon spray paint. He pointed at her and she started to cry. 

The push ups eventually made his muscles throb but he kept going. He had to drain his body of all of it. When he thought he couldn't stand to keep going he did one more and belly flopped on the floor, covering his head with aching arms. 

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Lance. Justin got on his knees and crawled over to the door, reaching up to open it. 

"Hey," Lance said, chipper as usual. Justin crawled over to the middle of the floor again and laid on his back. 

"Hey." 

"Chris and I are going to Joey's room to watch a movie, just until we fall asleep. Want to come?" 

"Nah." Justin examined his fingernails, poking at the cuticles a little. He needed a manicure. He rolled his head to the side and saw Lance sitting in the chair by the door. "What about JC? Where is he?" 

"In his room. He said he doesn't feel like it." 

Justin looked back at his fingernails, afraid to ask. But he couldn't help it. "Is that girl with him?" 

"No. I haven't seen her since this afternoon." 

"Hmm." Justin scraped a little piece of grime from underneath the nail of his index finger. 

"I don't think there's anything going on with that girl," Lance said, slumping back in the chair. "So you can't sleep, huh?" 

"Not yet." 

"Want me to take your card in case you can't wake up in the morning?" 

"Sure." Justin shimmied across the floor on his back until he could reach the nightstand and pulled down the little envelope with two entry cards to his room. He flipped one to Lance, who caught it and put it in his shirt pocket. 

"Okay," Lance said. "Goodnight." 

"Goodnight." 

When Lance left Justin stared up at the ceiling. What to do now? He sat up and caught a whiff of himself, sweaty from the push ups and dancing in heavy designer clothes. He definitely needed a shower. 

He stripped out of his clothes and dropped them in the middle of the room, padding naked across the carpet to the bathroom. The bathroom looked the same as every other hotel room bathroom - gleaming faucet, white porcelain sink, little white counter for make up bags and shaving kits and tooth brushes in little plastic travel containers. Little round soaps. One-use shampoo and conditioner. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

The water in the shower came down on his body hot and hard, a liquid massage for his aching muscles. He squeezed his eyes shut and put his face in the spray, feeling tendrils of lukewarm water glide through his hair, ridding it of the stench of arena hot dogs and cigarette smoke and the dirty sock smell of the tour bus. It ran in rivers down his chest and stomach, feeling warm and inviting on his groin. He reached around the shower curtain long enough to unwrap one of the little soaps and went under the water again, soaping his hands. He leaned in and put his hand on the shower wall to steady himself, bowing his head so the water ran down his back, drips sliding down his hair and trickling off to land on the bathtub floor. He put his slick right hand around his cock and realized how incredibly hard he was. With a killer erection and the pounding water, he came in about two minutes. 

He had the same thought he had every time he came. Two letters. JC. 

He cleaned the rest of his body and turned off the shower regretfully. He could have stayed in there forever if there was time. When he stepped out he faced a foggy mirror that he had to run his hand across to get a reflection. The moisture still obscured his face, making every feature blurry. 

He dried off and tightened the towel around his waist. Then there were the night time rituals of brushing his teeth to keep the crisp white smile, combing his hair because if he didn't it would be like a bird's nest when he woke up. 

He walked out of the bathroom and stopped dead. JC sat on the end of his bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. Justin stopped breathing. 

"Hey," JC said. 

Justin cleared his throat, trying to get his voice working. "Hey." 

He walked self consciously to his suitcase, trying to find his boxer shorts with trembling hands. Lance must have given him the card. 

"What's up?" Justin asked. 

"I wanted to talk to you," JC said. "We need to get this cleared up." 

Justin's heart somersaulted. Cleared up? As in get back together? 

"We're not together anymore but we have to start getting along, for the sake of the group," JC said. 

The somersaults stopped and sank to the pit of his stomach. 

"Yeah," Justin said. He wanted to sound confident but his voice was weak and wispy. "So where's your girlfriend?" 

"She's not my girlfriend," JC said. 

"So what was today all about?" 

JC's voice rose a notch. "So what was the prostitute all about?" 

Justin stopped searching in his suitcase but stayed facing the wall. "I couldn't sleep." 

"Yeah, but Justin, that's exactly..." 

"What you're talking about," Justin finished. 

"Exactly." 

"He wouldn't have been here if I was still with you." 

JC laughed a little, but it was sharp, humorless laugh that sounded like "ha." 

"So now I'm responsible for your sleeping habits?" JC said. "Besides, if you're going to argue that when you're with me you don't need to sleep with other people, history proves otherwise. And then you give me the finger in front of the whole crew." 

Justin spun around. "What was that girl all about?" 

JC shrugged. So effortless. "She's just someone I know. It's nothing. I just wanted to show you what it felt like." 

"Well, now I know. Thanks so much for enlightening me." 

JC sighed hard. "And that's another thing, Justin. You have such an attitude. I can't tell you anything. I can't get you to listen to anything." 

Justin bit his lip and turned back to the suitcase, sifting his hand through his clothes. Where the hell were those shorts? He didn't want to argue. He didn't even know if he had the energy. 

"JC, I have a question for you." 

"Go for it." 

He stood up straight again, trying to will himself to turn around, but lost his courage and only turned halfway around and stared at the far wall. "Did you...." 

He swallowed back a lump in his throat. JC waited. 

"Did you ever love me? Because sometimes I don't feel like you did." It was no use. His voice cracked. 

"Justin...." 

"Because I know I'm a jerk and everything but..." Now there were tears. He tried to fight with every ounce of shame to hold them back but there was no stopping them. "But I can be better. I can do better. I can be whatever you want me to be if you just...." He bowed his head involuntarily and started to cry, wiping his eyes with a couple of fingers but knowing it was no use. "If you just stick with me for awhile and be patient because I'm feeling really fucked up and I don't even know why." The words were getting harder to force out but he knew he couldn't stop. "I just...I know you hate me but I won't sleep with anyone anymore. I know I...." 

He was so busy babbling that he didn't notice JC standing next to him. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, then JC steering him so they were facing each other and pulling him into a hug. 

"I know I'm a jerk and I'm sorry and I'm so sorry for what I did and now it seems like you're never going to stop hating me." 

"Justin, stop." JC ran his hand across Justin's wet hair. "I don't hate you." 

"Yeah, but you don't love me anymore." The tears had turned into gasping sobs. He was so ashamed and at the same time felt the addiction to JC touching him renewing itself. 

"Yes I do," JC whispered. "Yes I do. That's why it hurt so much." 

He wanted to write volumes of songs in JC's honor. Take a space expedition and name a galaxy after him. He felt them teetering on the edge, so close to either falling apart forever or coming back together that he was afraid to breath. 

"I love you," he said. 

"I love you too." JC pulled back and ran his thumb under one of Justin's eyes, wiping away tears. "Stop crying." 

Justin gulped. He didn't want to do irreparable damage but it felt like now or never. "Will you give me another chance? I promise I'll be better this time." 

It was amazing how JC's eyes were always steady no matter what happened. "You have to mean it. I'm scared to death." 

"I mean it." He wanted to hear JC say "okay." Something to seal the bond. JC pulled him back into a hug and they stood there for a moment, breathing against each other. "Say okay," Justin said. 

"Okay." 

Justin laughed and cried at the same time. "Okay." 

JC pulled back and smiled at him, eyes focused, hands steady. Justin thought for a moment they might kiss but realized that neither of them were ready for it. 

"Sleep with me tonight?" 

"Okay," JC said. "But just sleep. I know what you're like." 

"Sleep." 

JC pulled away. "I have to go get my bag from my room." 

"Okay." 

Justin watched him leave. The second the door closed he hurried to his suitcase and really looked for the shorts. They were in the bottom, under a pair of jeans. He threw the towel on the floor and slid into them. Then he reconsidered and took the towel into the bathroom, hanging it up neatly. 

He ran over and climbed under the covers, tucking them up to his chin. He worried for a split second that JC wouldn't be back, but JC always kept his word. 

JC slipped back in with his shoulder bag, smiling a little. 

"How did you get in here, anyway?" Justin asked. 

"Lance gave me the card. He said you wanted to talk to me." 

"That little shit." 

"Yeah, he's something else." JC disappeared into the bathroom. 

Justin laid silently, listening to the sounds of JC's night time rituals. Washing his face. Brushing his teeth. JC turned off the overhead light and walked across the room in darkness. When he crawled into bed he sighed. 

"Can I...just kind of cuddle up to you?" Justin asked. 

"Sure." 

Justin rolled sideways and bumped his nose on JC's shoulder. It felt a little awkward, finally being able to touch him. He slipped a careful arm across JC's stomach and laid his head on JC's chest. He felt JC's arm move around him and pull him closer. There. It fit like his favorite pair of old jeans. 

He would be faithful to JC. He just knew it. He would climb up and pick him a star if he wanted it. 

*** 

Justin opened his bleary eyes halfway and saw the alarm clock. 5:50 a.m. They had switched positions so Justin was on his side and JC was laying behind him, spooned against him. JC's erection was pressed against his thigh, JC's fingers closing in and gently squeezing a nipple. 

Justin wasn't ready to speak or even open his eyes all the way. He purred and pressed back into him. JC was here. 

JC's lips started at the top of Justin's spine and ran up the back of his neck. Then he retraced the trail using the tip of his tongue. 

"JC," Justin breathed, melting back against him, pressing his hips back so they ground against JC's cock, feeling it hard and hot through the thin material of his boxers. "JC, I am so...." 

"Horny?" JC said into his ear, catching the lobe between his teeth. 

"Yes," Justin breathed, squeezing the blanket in his hands. "It's been so long." 

"I know." He tugged at Justin's boxers. "Take these off." 

Justin got them off in three seconds flat. He closed his eyes and smiled as JC grabbed his shoulder and gently pushed him onto his back. They kissed languorously, mouths open and tongues sliding together. Perfect. 

JC reached down, avoiding Justin's swollen cock and going right to his ass, massaging the little pink bud there with his finger. Justin realized that JC had already gotten the lubricant while Justin was sleeping soundly. Smooth as always. Justin breathed deeply, willing his body to relax, trying to make up for lost time and lost elasticity. JC kissed him hard and deep, sucking on Justin's tongue and drawing it into his own mouth, as his finger slid inside. 

Oh, yeah. That was it. Justin's entire body tensed, clenching around JC's finger, vividly feeling it go in even farther and massage that spot. The spot. The spot that had always been the key to his heart, the way to make him writhe and squirm and gasp. 

He felt JC smile against his mouth. "Some things never change," JC whispered. 

"It's only been two weeks." 

"Two long weeks." 

"Two unbearable weeks," Justin agreed. 

JC pulled out and slid back in with two fingers. Two long, slender, talented fingers that could touch him and push him and rub him in exactly the right places. Justin purred, raising his hips against JC's hand, gripping JC's arm and trying to ride out the sensations. 

"Okay," JC whispered in a soothing tone. Justin could only breathe in response. 

When JC was satisfied that Justin was ready, he removed his fingers and ran the tips across Justin's swollen cock, causing another ripple of pleasure. Justin reached down and took JC's dick in his hand, getting his thumb wet from the precome and circling the head with it. 

It was amazing watching JC like that, still on his side but frozen in place, eyes closed and mouth open. Justin pushed him on his back and started down his body, his lips wrapping wetly around JC's nipple. Justin felt JC's fingers tangle in his hair as he ran his face across JC's stomach. 

He started to crawl between JC's legs when a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. "I wouldn't do that if you want this to last longer than 10 seconds," JC said. 

Justin grinned. "I don't know if I'll last longer than 10 seconds." 

"Close your eyes," JC ordered. Justin wasn't sure where this was going, but he obeyed. "Open your mouth." Justin opened his mouth. He felt JC put something plastic between his teeth. Something square with rough edges. 

He took it out and found a condom still wrapped in its foil package. Shit. He should have expected this. But now, having JC naked and squirming underneath him, he wasn't going to complain. He crawled down further until JC's cock was in perfect licking distance and ran his tongue over the head, getting a taste of salt and stickiness. 

But he couldn't help himself. He leaned in and slid his lips down the shaft, taking the whole thing into his mouth in one try. He felt it touch the back of his throat, his gag reflexes muttering in the background but fading away almost instantly. He stayed like that for a minute, working his tongue, before he tightened his lips and sucked back up to the top. 

"Justin," JC breathed. 

Justin gave it a couple more good hard sucks and pulled back regretfully. He ripped open the package, slid the condom out and held it delicately in his fingers, pushing on it a little to find which way it rolled. It moistened his fingertips. He knew it had that artificial, rubbery taste of latex. But he would rather have that than nothing at all. 

He rolled it on in record speed, a skill born from years of practice. When he was done he cowered down and ran his tongue along JC's balls, lapping at them, wanting JC to be glad that he had come to Justin's room. JC reached down and again tightened his fingers in Justin's hair. 

"Come here," JC whispered. 

Justin scurried back up to the head of the bed in record time, laying down next to JC and kissing him hard. Their lips remained locked together as JC rolled him over, using his knees to push Justin's legs apart. 

It was going to happen. It was really going to happen. After nights of thinking he had lost it forever, he was going to get fucked. By JC. 

He raised his legs so his ankles were resting on JC's shoulders, bending easily when JC moved in and put a hand on either side of Justin's body. Then there was that hard pressure against his ass, that thing that would soon be inside of him, making him claw and writhe and scream. He breathed slowly and deeply, unclenching his hands, relaxing his muscles. 

JC slid in an inch at a time, wanting to be gentle but at the same time probably wanting to torture him. JC's cock cleared his muscle, kept sliding in deeper until it hit that wonderful, glorious spot. 

Justin groaned, arched his back, thought he might hyperventilate. He felt JC start thrusting, slowly and deliberately. Pleasure ripped through his body. It made his brain scream and the palms of his hands tingle. He realized he was being noisy, moans punctuating each thrust, and that JC was moaning back in encouragement. 

Harder, Justin thought. Harder. Deeper. Longer. Faster. But none of those words came out. All he could mumble was "More." 

JC quickened his pace so suddenly that it set Justin's body on edge. It was rhythmic, perfectly executed, like a song in itself. A series of breathy, hurried thrusts followed by one long, hard, deep one. He did that for a minute or so until Justin wanted to grab him, roll him over, be on top so he could control the pace. Then JC stopped the game and fucked him with a hard, even, unflinching rhythm. 

Justin felt his insides melt. His mind turned to static. He tried to speak but his tongue was thick, his breathing too labored. Instead of forming words, all that materialized were shapeless sounds from deep in his throat - moans, groans, pants, senseless noises, like speaking in tongues. 

He was going to come. He couldn't wait for it. He needed the release, needed the closure. He felt it rise in his chest first, then in his whole body. Closer and closer and closer and.... 

Just when he was on the verge, like the second before a tidal wave breaks, ready to come with no hands and nothing between him and JC, JC pulled nearly all the way out and stopped. Justin tried to buck his hips, tried to will himself to go over the edge, but he couldn't. He gritted his teeth. "JC, please." 

JC didn't move. "Do you love me?" 

"Yes," Justin panted, every cell in his body aching. 

"Do you need me?" 

"Yes!" 

"Do you need only me?" 

"Yes, yes, yes, please." He wanted to scream in frustration. 

"Okay." JC pushed hard into him, into the exact right spot. Two more thrusts and Justin threw his head back. He came all over his chest, all over his stomach and probably all over JC. Even as he was riding out his orgasm, his fingernails digging into his palms, his entire body cranking tight, JC kept fucking him. 

But it only lasted a minute before JC collapsed on top of him, digging his head in Justin's shoulder. Justin ran his fingertips along JC's sweaty back, feeling JC's body shudder. Their heartbeats slowed. Their breathing evened out. And still JC stayed on top of Justin, arms wrapped around him. 

They showered separately so they wouldn't be late. At 7:30 a.m. Justin swung his door open to see the rest of the entourage lugging their suitcases down the hallway. 

They all stopped. As usual, Joey spoke first. "Oh, man." 

"Shut up, Joey," Lance said. 

"Come on," Justin said, getting a better handle on his suitcase. "We have to get out of here." 

This time, there were about 25 fans waiting on the sidewalk outside, all holding pieces of paper and CD's and tour programs in their outstretched hands. Justin smiled and signed everything put in front of him. He posed for photographs until he and the other four were hustled onto the bus. Except this time the bus was a welcome sight. The roads would be long and quiet with entire days for him and JC to get reacquainted, and the monotony was over. 

He curled up in his bunk with JC and slept like a baby. 


End file.
